Where Does Wool Come From?

We could not write the story of a suit of clothes without dealing largely with the sheep, for it is only from the wool of the sheep that the best, warmest and most lasting garment can be made. In order that we may properly understand the development of the great wool and clothing industry in America we must supply a brief history of our sheep industry, for the sheep must always come before the clothing.

Who Brought the First Sheep to America?

The sheep is not a native of America, but it came here with the first white men. History records that Columbus on his way to this country stopped at the Canary Islands to take on stores. Among other things he loaded a number of sheep, some of which were later landed on the new continent. What became of this early importation history does not record, but it is probable that most, if not all, of them perished from the attack of wild animals or at the hands of the natives. However, when settlers began pouring into the new world many of them brought along their sheep, so that from the earliest colonial days the sheep constituted our most numerous domestic animals. This, indeed, was necessary, for if the colonist was to survive the rigor of our climate he must have an abundant supply of woolen clothing. In those days clothing materials were limited to wool, flax and the skins of animals, and, as may be supposed, wools were in very great demand. England and most European countries prohibited the exportation of wool, in order to increase the demand for the clothing which she manufactured. However, as our new colonist had ample time and but little money, he desired to make his own clothing rather than send such funds as he had to the mother country. Therefore, the new settler, as a matter of necessity, was forced to increase the domestic supply of wools.

Who Started to Make Clothing from Wool in America?

Early records reveal that shortly after the year 1600 many of the colonies passed laws for the purpose of encouraging the sheep industry. In fact, some of them went so far as to prohibit the transportation of sheep or wool from one colony to another. However, our new sheep industry prospered, and well it should, for it had the backing of every prominent patriot of the early days. Washington, Jefferson, Madison, and Franklin all were enthusiastic advocates of sheep husbandry, for they knew that unless a people had a large domestic supply of wool they could not long remain independent or hope to gain independence from foreign countries. In fact, at one time Washington owned as many as one thousand sheep, and if he lived in the present day he would be regarded as a sheep baron. Wool, next to food, is the most vital necessity of a people, for when wars come wool becomes a contraband, and all foreign supplies are shut off. Thus, in stimulating a domestic wool supply the great wisdom of our early patriots was vindicated with the coming of the Revolutionary War. When that great struggle came our foreign wool supply was shut off, but on account of the foresight of these patriots in encouraging home production, our colonists had a supply ample for most of their needs.

We not only had the wool, but the housewife had learned the art of manufacturing wool into clothing by means of the spinning wheel, so that when our soldiers went forth in that great struggle, which was to bring to us independence, they were clad in garments made of American grown wool and manufactured by the good housewife during her hours of leisure.

When affairs became tranquil, following the close of the Revolution, settlement, which had largely been confined to the Atlantic coast, pushed westward farther and farther into the wilderness. Each of these settlers took with him his supply of sheep, for the purpose of furnishing wool for clothing and meat for food. In the early days wool was not grown for the purpose of sale, but to be used entirely by the family of the producer. However, when settlement reached the Mississippi River, conditions changed. Wool manufacturing had then been established in the land, and it became customary to raise wool to sell to these manufacturers, who had located along the Atlantic seaboard.

Why Does the Sheep Precede the Plow in Civilizing a Country?

In all countries the sheep has been the pioneer of civilization. They have settled and developed practically all new lands. In fact, so firmly established has been this rule that it seems almost necessary that the sheep should precede the plow, and thus prepare land for agriculture. The reason for this is that the sheep is a tractable animal and depends on man to guide its every step. It can endure hardships that would destroy other forms of animal life. However, the maintenance of a sheep industry requires an abundance of labor, and in this way settlement always follows the sheep. So has it been in foreign countries, and so was it in this country.

Where Does Most of Our Wool Come From?

Sheep came into our western states early in the seventies, at a time when these states were thinly settled, but following the sheep came the labor incident to its care, and thus the railroads, stores, cities and schoolhouses found their way into the land. Originally all of our sheep industry was east of the Mississippi River. Then for a time it was east of the Missouri River. To-day west of the Missouri River we have about 23,000,000 aged sheep, or more than one-half of the total in the United States. In the pioneer days the western sheep skirmished on the range for most of the food that it obtained. To-day conditions are different, and, while the sheep is on the range for a short time each year, it spends its summer in the National Forest, for which grazing a fee is paid to the Federal Government. Its winters are spent largely around the hay-stack of the farmer, and about fifty to sixty cents’ worth of hay is fed to each sheep in the West each winter. With the coming of spring the western sheep are divided into bands of about 1500, and each two bands are placed in care of three caretakers, who care for and protect the sheep either on the deeded land of the owner or on the land rented from the Federal Government.

How Much Wool Does America Produce Yearly?

So much for the history of our sheep. A few words now about wool. The total wool crop of the United States is approximately 300,000,000 pounds per year. The value of this crop is around $60,000,000 annually.

How Do We Get the Wool Off the Sheep?

With the coming of spring our sheep are driven to large central plants, where they are shorn by the use of machines driven by electricity or steam power. One man shears about one hundred and fifty sheep per day. For this he receives eight cents per head. When the wool is taken off the sheep it is gathered up and carefully tied with string made of paper. The tied fleece is then dropped into an elevator, and is carried up about ten feet, where it is dropped into a large sack about three feet in diameter and seven feet long. In this sack there is always a wool tramper, who keeps tramping the fleeces down, so that about forty fleeces are finally put into each sack, making the weight of the sack approximately three hundred pounds. As these sacks are filled they are carefully stored in a dry shed, and, when shearing is completed, are hauled to the railroad station and shipped to the great wool centers of Boston or Philadelphia. While the bulk of the wool in the United States is produced west of the Missouri River, that territory manufactures very little wool. So the western sheepman, who is thus forced to grow his wool in the western states, pays about two cents a pound freight on it back to the eastern market, where it is sold and later manufactured into cloth. A part of this same clothing is then shipped west, to be sold to the very man, in some instances, who produced the wool out of which it is made.

American wool, taken as a whole, is the best wool grown in the world. It is not as soft as some Australian wool, but all of it possesses a greater strength than foreign wools, and it has long since been determined that clothing made of American wool will give better service than that made of foreign wool. Of the wool used in the United States for the manufacturing of clothing we produce about 70 per cent and import about 30 per cent.

How Much Does the Wool In a Suit of Clothes Cost?

It is customary for the person who buys clothing made of wool to believe that the value of the wool in the cloth is what makes the clothing seem expensive. However, if we take a man’s suit made of medium-weight cloth, such as is worn in November, we find that it requires about nine pounds of average wool to make the suit. For this wool the sheepman receives an average of seventeen cents per pound, so that out of the entire suit the man who produces the material out of which the suit is made receives a total of $1.53. A suit such as is here described would be of all wool and free from shoddy or any wool substitute. It would be a suit that would be sold by the storekeeper at $25.00, and if you had it made by the tailor he would charge you $35.00. Yet the wool-grower furnished all the material out of which the suit was made, and received as his share but $1.53. Thus it will be clear to the person who buys clothing and reads these lines that no longer can the blame for the high cost of clothing be laid at the door of the wool-grower.

While the wool-using population of the world is increasing very rapidly, the number of wool-producing sheep in the world is decreasing. Ordinarily this would mean that a point would be reached where the supply of wool would be totally inadequate to meet the needs of the public. However, this unfortunate possibility is being averted by the energy and thrift of the sheepmen in breeding sheep that produce more and better wool than was the case in the past. The sheep which Columbus brought to this country, and, in fact, all the sheep of the world in that day, produced wool of very coarse, inferior quality, and but very little of it. One hundred years ago our sheep did not average three pounds of wool per head, but by careful breeding and better feeding we have brought the average fleece up to slightly more than seven pounds. Of course, some sheep produce decidedly more wool than this, but the fact that in one hundred years we have more than doubled the amount of wool that a sheep produces and increased its quality very materially speaks well for the ingenuity and determination of our sheep producers. Probably as time goes on the average fleece may be still further increased, so that in the next twenty-five years it is not too much to hope that our sheep will produce on an average of one pound more wool than they now do.

Of course, as wool comes from the sheep, it naturally contains much dirt. The sheep have run on the range or in the open pasture during much of the year, and dust and dirt has settled into the wool. Then, besides producing wool, the sheep excrete into the wool a fatty substance known as wool fat. When the fleece is taken from the sheep and sent to the market the first thing that the manufacturer does with the fleece is to wash out all this foreign matter. The foreign matter is of a considerable quantity, for 60 per cent of wool as it comes from the sheep is dirt and grease, so that only 40 per cent of the sheep’s fleece represents wool fibres.

This wool fibre is a very delicate affair, being made up of thousands of little cells, one laid on top of the other. On the surface of the fibre are a lot of scales arranged something like the scales on a fish. In the process of manufacturing the scales on one fibre lock with scales on another fibre, and in that way the fibres are held together in the piece of cloth.

When wool is received at the factory it is in fleeces, and each fleece contains different kinds of fibres—long and short—coarse and fine, and it is necessary that these should be sorted into different kinds or grades, as may be desired—perhaps six or eight different kinds, according to the particular uses to which the different qualities are to be put.

The fleece is spread out on a table, the center of which is covered with wire netting, and through this netting part of the dust and other matter from the wool falls while the sorting is going on. Sorters tear with the hands the different parts of the fleece from each other and separate them into piles, according to their different qualities.

All unwashed wool contains a fatty or greasy matter called yolk, which is a secretion from the skin of the sheep. The effect of this yolk is to prevent the fibres of the wool from matting, except at the ends, where, of course, it collects dust, and, forming a sort of a coating, really serves as a protection to the rest of the fleece while on the sheep’s back.

After the wool is sorted it is next cleansed or scoured, in order to remove all this yolk, dirt and foreign matter, and this is accomplished by passing the wool, by means of automatic rakes, through a washing machine, consisting of a set of three or four vats or bowls, which contain a cleansing solution of warm, soapy water, until all the grease and dirt have been removed.

Each bowl has its set of rollers, which squeezes out the water from the wool before it passes into the next bowl. Having passed through the last bowl and set of rollers the wool is carried on an apron made of slats on chains, to the drying chamber, called the dryer, where is taken out most of the moisture.

The wool is now blown through pipes or carried on trucks to the carding room.

From this point the wool follows one of two different processes of manufacture—that of making into worsteds or that of making into woolens.

Speaking in a general way, worsted fabrics are made of yarns in which the fibres all lie parallel, and woolens are made of yarns in which the fibres cross or are mixed. Ordinarily, worsteds are made from long staple wools, and woolens from short staple wools.

By means of the comb the fibre is still further straightened out, the short stock and noil, or nibs, are removed, and when the sliver comes from the combs most of the fibres are parallel to each other. A number of the slivers taken from the comb are then put through two further operations of gilling, and wound into a large ball, which is called a finished top.

The next process in the manufacture of worsteds is carding. In this process the wool is passed between cylinders and rollers, from which project the ends of many small wires. These cylinders revolve in opposite directions. The result is the opening, separating and straightening of the fibres; and the wool is delivered in soft strands, which are taken off by the doffer comb and wound upon a wooden roll into the shape of a large ball, known as a card-ball or card-sliver, or put into a revolving can. The sliver from a number of these balls or cans is now taken and put through what is known as the gilling machine, which to a degree straightens the fibres.

From the gilling machine the wool comes off in soft strands. Four strands are then taken to the balling machine, where is made a large ball, ready for the combing. It takes eighteen of these balls to make a set or fill up the comb.

The dyeing is done in three ways—in the top, in the thread or skein after being spun, or in the piece after it is woven. If the wool is to be stock dyed—that is, dyed in the top—it is sent to the dyehouse to be dyed the shade required, and afterwards returned to be gilled and recombed ready for the drawing.

Up to this point there has been no twist given to the wool, nor any appearance of a thread. The top, the soft untwisted end, is now run through the drawing machine, the process sometimes consisting of nine distinct operations, and is drawn and redrawn until reduced to the size required for its special purpose; and the stock is then delivered to the spinning room on spools, and is called roving.

In the spinning the process of drawing continues until the twisted thread is reduced to the size required, which, either singly or twisted together in two, three or four strands, is to be used for weaving.

The yarn is then very carefully inspected, and all imperfections which would show in the finished goods are removed, and, if it is to be dyed in the skein, the yarn is taken to a reel, where the skeins are made ready for the dyehouse.

The threads must now be prepared for the loom, in order that the actual weaving may be done. The thread is used in two ways in weaving—as warp, which is the thread which runs lengthwise of the cloth, and as filling, or woof, which runs across the cloth from side to side.

The warp threads—the threads which run lengthwise of the cloth—are sized and wound upon large reels, and from these transferred to a large wooden roll called the warp beam, which holds all the warp threads, usually several thousands.

The filling threads are put on shuttle bobbins and placed in the shuttles to be refilled by the operatives as required, and as the weaving progresses.

The warp beam is then taken to the drawing-in room, where these several thousand threads are drawn through wire heddles in a frame called the harness, then drawn through a wire reed. The completed warp beam is now ready for the loom.

The harnesses are placed in the loom, and by means of what is called the “head-motion,” part of the threads are raised and part are lowered. This allows the filling shuttles to pass above some threads and below others, filling out the pattern required.

The cloth, having been made in such length as is desired, is taken from the loom, and, by what is known as burling and mending, any knots or threads woven in wrongly are removed, and any imperfections which have been discovered through a careful examination are corrected.

The web or cloth is scoured or washed and the oil and any foreign matter removed.

Undressed fabrics would now be fulled. This consists of running cloth through a fulling machine, where, moistened with a specially prepared soap, it is subjected to a great pressure and pounding, which aids in giving the required finish.

There are different kinds of finishes which require different treatments, and it would be impracticable for us to dwell in detail upon this matter here.

If dyed in the piece, the web or cloth is taken to the dyehouse and dyed. It is thoroughly rinsed, all moisture is extracted from it, and it is dried.

After drying the cloth is run through a machine by which it is brushed and sheared, the brushing lifting the long fibres, and the shearing cutting them off at even length. The cloth is put through the press, which irons it out, giving it the lustre or the finish that is desired. It is examined again for further imperfections, and if such have occurred they are corrected.

Measuring, weighing, rolling and tagging follow, and the cloth is packed and ready for the market.

Woolens are made from short staple wools, known as clothing wools, and in the finished woolens the fibres of the yarns cross or are mingled together. In the case of woolens, after the scouring, it is frequently necessary to remove burrs or other vegetable matter from the wool. To accomplish this the wool is dipped in a bath of chloride of aluminum or sulphuric acid solution, then the moisture is extracted and the wool is put through a drier, where the temperature must be at least 212 degrees. This heat carbonizes the foreign substance, but has little effect on the animal fibres of the wool.

Next, an ingenious machine called the burr picker removes the burr.

Sometimes there is to be a blend of the wool with other stocks, and in that case the several different wools are mixed together.

Dyeing of woolens is done in three ways—in the wool, in the thread after it is spun, or in the piece after it is woven. If the wool is to be “dyed in the wool” it is now conveyed to the dyehouse, dyed the shade required, then returned to the mixing room.

During the process of scouring, when the yolk was removed, a large part of the natural oil of the wool was also eliminated, and, in order to restore this lubricant, the wool is sprinkled with an oil emulsion, and the mixing picker thoroughly blends the wools.

From here the wool goes to the cardroom, and by means of the carding machine the fibres are carded and drawn and delivered to the finisher in a broad, flat sheet. By means of the condenser it is divided into narrow bands, and the wool—free as yet from twist—comes out in soft strands. These strands or threads are called roping.

Now comes the mule spinning. The roping passes through rolls by which it is drawn and twisted to the size required, and wound on paper cop tubes or bobbins. Such of the yarn as is to be used for warp is then spooled from the bobbins to dresser spools. It is sized and wound upon large reels: from these transferred to the warp beam, as in the case of worsteds.

The processes of drawing-in, preparation for weaving, burling and mending are practically the same as in the case of worsteds.

The finishing processes of woolens, like the finishing processes of worsteds, vary with different fabrics, some fabrics being scoured and cleansed in the washers before fulling, others going to the fulling mill without cleansing. After fulling, the cloth is again washed and rinsed, and if necessary to remove any vegetable fibres it is carbonized.

Napping or gigging raises the fibres to the nap desired. Gigging is done by means of a wire napping machine or teasel gig, which raises the ends of the fibres on the face of the cloth. The teasel is a vegetable product about the shape of a pine cone, and it is interesting to note that no mechanical contrivance has ever been invented to equal it for the purpose.

The napping which has been raised by the teasel is sheared or cut to a proper length by machine. The cloth is pressed, and, if it is desired to finish it with lustre, it is wound upon copper cylinders and steam is forced through it at a high pressure.

Next the cloth is dyed, if it is to be piece-dyed—that is, dyed in the piece. If the cloth is a mixture, the wool was dyed immediately after the scouring. In worsteds the dyeing is done either just after it has been subjected to the first combing processes, or the yarn is dyed in the skein or hank.

In the dry finishing the cloth is finished with various kinds of finishes desired, and it is steamed, brushed, sheared and pressed. Another examination for any imperfections or defects follows; the cloth is measured, packed and tagged and is ready for the market.

The difference between worsteds and woolens is principally that in the threads or yarns from which worsteds are made the fibres of the wool lie parallel, one to another, being made from combed wool, from which the short fibres have been removed; and woolens are made from yarns in which the fibres cross and are matted and intermixed. When finished the effect of worsteds and woolens is materially different. Upon examination it will be found that the worsted thread resembles a wire in evenness, while the woolen thread is uneven and irregular.

A worsted fabric when finished has a clear, bright, well defined pattern, seems close and firmly woven, and is of a pronounced dressy effect; while woolen cloths are softer, they are more elastic, the colors are more blended, the threads are not so easily distinguishable and the general effect is duller.

Why Can’t We See in the Dark?

We cannot see in the dark because there is no light to see by. To understand this we must first understand that when we see a thing, as we generally say, we do not actually see the thing itself, but only the light coming from it. But we have become so used to saying that we see the thing itself that for all practical purposes we can accept that as true, although it is not scientifically exact. Scientifically speaking, we see that part of the sunlight or other light which is shining upon it, which the object is able to reflect.

If there were no air about us we could not hear any sounds, no matter how much disturbance people or things created, because it requires air to cause the sound waves which produce sound, and air also to carry the sound waves to our ears. In the same way, if there is no light to produce light rays from any given object to our eyes, we can see nothing. It requires light waves to produce the reflections of objects to our eyes. Without light our eyes and their delicate organs are useless. You cannot see yourself in a mirror when the quicksilver which was once on the back of the glass has been removed, because there is then nothing to reflect the light. We can only see things when there is light enough about to reflect things to our eyes. When it is dark there is no light, and that is the reason we cannot see anything in the dark.

Why Can Cats and Some Other Animals See in the Dark?

They cannot see in the real dark any more than human beings. These animals can find their way in the dark and can see more than a human being, because of one distinct difference in their eyes, which may for them be considered an advantage. The pupils of their eyes can be made much larger, and they can, therefore, let more light into their eyes than people. The result is that when it is so dark that you cannot see a thing and you decide it is really dark, the cat can still see, because there is always a little more light left and she can open the pupils of her eyes and make them larger, thus letting in more light, and the little bit of light there is still left gets into her eyes and she is able to see. But in a really dark room a cat could see no more than you can. You see, our eyes open and shut more or less just like those of the cat, according to the intensity of the light. When you go out of the dark and shaded room into the bright sunlight and look at the sun, you naturally squint your eyes without deliberately intending to do so. This is nature’s way of preventing too much light getting into your eyes at one time. Gradually the pupils of your eyes contract and get smaller, until you can see, without squinting, anything in the sunlight. If, then, you were to go right back into a dark or shaded room, you would have to wait a moment or two before you could see things distinctly in the room—until the pupils of your eyes had dilated (become larger), so as to let in enough light to enable you to see normally. The eye automatically enlarges and contracts the pupil of the eye, to enable us to see distinctly in either light or less light places.

Why Is It Difficult to Walk Straight with My Eyes Closed?

The reason we cannot do this always is because when we walk naturally the steps taken by our right and left feet are not of equal length. This difference in the length of the steps is due to the fact that our legs are never exactly the same length. We think of them generally as of the same length, but they are not, and this will be proven if you measure them accurately. Now, then, the longer of the legs will always take a longer step than the shorter one, and so, if our eyes are shut, we walk in circles, unless we have something to guide us. When we walk with our eyes open, we are able to overcome the tendency to walk in circles, because our eyes help the brain to direct the legs on a straight course. Another reason which affects the matter is that our eyes are very necessary in keeping our bodies balanced on our feet, and it is very difficult to learn to keep the body balanced with the eyes closed. Now, when your eyes are closed and you attempt to walk in a straight line your body balances from one side to the other, and this fact, coupled with the first reason given, makes your course irregular. But, say you, the man on the tight-rope has his eyes bandaged and he walks a very straight line. Yes; but remember that he has a straight tight-rope to guide him, and all he needs is to maintain his balance. One can learn to walk in a straight line with the eyes closed, but it takes a good deal of practice, as you will learn if you try.

Why Can’t We Sleep with Our Eyes Open?

We cannot sleep with our eyes open, because to be asleep involves losing control of most of the functions of the body. When we sleep the brain sleeps also. Perhaps it would be stated more clearly to say that we cannot sleep while the part of the brain which controls our activities is awake. There is a part of the brain which has the power to open our eyes, i. e., lift the eyelids, and when that portion of the brain ceases to exercise its power to keep the eyes open, they go shut. Even when we are awake that part of our brain cannot keep our eyes from winking, because there is another part of the brain which sees to it that our eyes wink every so often. This is done for the purpose of washing the eye-ball, and is the answer to another of your questions which is given in another place in this book. When the engineer at the electric light plant shuts off the power all the lights go out, and when you go to sleep you automatically shut off the power that opens your eyes, and the eyes are shut. The brain is asleep also, and if it is not completely asleep, you are restless.

Why Do Our Eyes Sparkle When We Are Merry?

If you should watch very closely the eyes of a merry person when you see them sparkle you would probably notice that the eyelids move up and down more often under such conditions than ordinarily, and if you know what moving the eyelids up and down in front of the pupil of the eye does, you will have your answer.

Every time the eyelid comes down it releases a little tear, which spreads over the eyeball and washes it clean and bright. It does this every time the eyelid comes down. Now, there is something about being merry which has the effect of making the eyelids dance up and down, and thus, every time the lid comes down, the ball of the eye is washed clean and bright, and gives it the appearance of sparkling, as we say.

Why Do We Laugh When Glad?

We laugh when glad because the things which make us laugh combine together to rouse those parts of the body which are involved in a good laugh to act in a certain harmony, and when this combination is arranged in a certain way it produces a laugh. Certain things in the world, whether they are funny, ludicrous, or other things that produce the laughing effect, cause the brain to work certain muscles and nerves in a combination that produces a laugh. The impression which reaches the brain causes these muscles and nerves to act involuntarily and the laugh comes. It works just like the keys of the piano. Some combinations of notes produce sad sounds and other combinations produce glad sounds, but the combination when once touched will always produce the same sound. It is the impressions made on the brain which start the proper combination, and it does this instantly. Just as a pin prick in the arm will at once send a “hurt” message to the brain and cause the brain to jerk the arm away, so a laugh-producing combination of sounds, or things we see, or feel, sends an impression to the brain which at once sends out the “laugh” order. Some things make some people laugh while they do not affect others at all. That is because our brains are not always the same in regard to recording impressions. Some things impress some brains one way and others entirely in a different way or not at all. You do not laugh so heartily the second time you hear a funny story, because the impression the brain receives when the story is told the second time is not so vivid.

Why Do I Laugh When Tickled?

Practically the same things happen when we are tickled, and explains why you laugh when tickled. When some one tickles the bottom of your feet or your ribs or another part of your body it produces, in most cases, the same effect on the brain as the laugh-producing sound or sight, and arouses the same combination of muscles and nerves to activity. It is just like pushing the button of an electric bell. When you push the button the contact produces the spark which sets the machinery of the bell in motion and the bell rings and will continue to ring as long as you keep your finger on the button, or until the spark-producing power of the battery is gone. Then, as in the case of the bell, you cease to laugh, because the spark that produced the laugh combination is gone. That is why some things tickle some people very much and do not affect others. Some are not so sensitive to the laugh-producing combination as others. After the thing that tickles you has been going on for some time you are not tickled into laughter any more, because the impression on the brain ceases to be as strong.

Why Don’t I Laugh When I Tickle Myself?

Your mind tells you there is no need to laugh when you tickle yourself. Your mind will not respond to the tickling sensation when it is aware that the cause of the tickle is yourself. The reflex action of the mind which causes laughter and squirming when some one else tickles you only acts when it is not conscious of the cause.

The whole purpose of the sensitive organization of our skins is to give us information and cause action which will enable us to protect ourselves when any outside influence touches us. An injurious touch causes shock and pain, and the harmless tickle arouses the laughing and squirming sensation.

What Happens When We Laugh?

Laughter is what we call a reflex action. When something occurs to make us laugh, whether it is something we see, or feel, or hear, it is because certain sensory nerves receive an impression in one of three ways, carry it to the nerve centre and the nerve centre then sends the same impression along certain efferent nerves, which connect with certain muscles or glands, and excite them to activity. The action is practically the same as when you hold a light before a mirror. The rays from the light strike the surface of the mirror and are reflected back from the surface, lighting perhaps corners of the room, which the direct rays from the light could not reach, all depending upon the angle of reflection. Light will always reflect from a mirror that is exposed to it.

Now, then, when you see, hear or feel anything that makes you laugh, the sensory nerves have only to receive the impression to bring on the explosion of laughter. Something touched the laugh nerves or the laugh trigger that caused it to go off. You can prove that it is a matter of impression entirely by noting that some people can listen to a perfectly funny story, even when told by a clever performer, and never crack a smile, while others burst into uncontrollable laughter, and he who does not even smile may be listening even more intently than the other—he may even be looking for a laugh. It all depends upon the impression that is made upon the nerves. The muscles have the power to express the state of gladness which is indicated by laughter when certain impressions pass along the nerves which operate them, just as they can be made to do other things when the proper cause for action is shown them.

Why Do We Cry When Hurt?

We cry when we are hurt for the same reason that we laugh when we are glad. The muscles and nerves, under the direction of the brain, produce the cry just as the muscles and nerves produce laughter, although they are probably, but not necessarily, a different set of muscles and nerves.

When we are hurt in any part of our body or feelings the impression does not affect us until it reaches the brain. Then instantly, of course, the body and brain go to work to destroy the pain. The first thing, of course, is to give a warning to other parts of the body that there is a hurt, and our crying is a warning to other people that we are hurt. That is probably the only good that crying does. It does not remove the hurt—it only tells others of our troubles. We cry with the lower part of the brain—the only portion of the brain which is active in a little baby. This is why even a tiny baby can cry. Crying is the only thing a baby can do to give warning of its distress or discomfort. Later in life the upper part of the brain develops. This is the master of the lower part. Therefore, we do not always cry when hurt as we grow older, because the master brain sometimes tells the lower brain that to cry will not help matters in the least, even though we are inclined to cry. Sometimes the hurt or shock to older people is so great or sudden that we cry out before the controlling part of the brain has had time to get in its work of preventing the outcry, but we are able to stop crying when the master brain again secures control.

Where Do Tears Come From?

Tears are not made only when we cry. They seem to come only when you cry, because it is then that they spill over. A little part of you is making tears all the time, and your eyes are constantly washing themselves in them. You have often noticed how you wink every few seconds? You have often tried to keep from winking—to see how long you could keep from winking. Boys and girls often do that, and when you keep from winking what seems a long time, you notice how your eyes ache and feel very dry just before you have to let them wink, in spite of how hard you try not to, and just when you think you are not going to. I will tell you just what winking does for the eyes. All of the time your eyes are open the front, or the part you see things with, is exposed to the dust and dirt that fills the air at all times, although we cannot always see the dust. The wind, too, is constantly making them dry. But have you ever noticed that although you never wash the inside of the front of the eye, or pupil, it is always clean? Well, it is because your eye washes itself every time you wink. I will tell you how this is done. Up above each eye, inside, of course, there is a little gland called the tear-gland. This gland is busy all the time you are awake making tears. As soon as the front of your eye becomes dry, or if a particle of dust or anything else strikes it, the nerves you have there tell the brain, and almost at once the eyelid comes down with a tear inside of it, and so washes the front of your eye clean again. It does its work perfectly and as often as necessary. There is always a tear ready to be used in this way.

Where Do the Tears Go?

Let me show you. Look right down here at the inner corner of my eyelid, where you will see a little hole. That is where the tears get out of the eye, when they have washed your eyeball clean. Where do they go then? Did you ever notice how soon after you cry you have to blow your nose? The reason for that is that when the tears go through the little hole they run down into the nose. This making of tears and winking goes on all the time while you are awake, and after they wash your eye off they go on out through this little hole. But when you cry you make more tears come than you need, so many, in fact, that they cannot all get away through this little hole, and as there is no place else for them to go, and as there is no place to keep them inside the eye, they simply spill themselves right over the edge of your lower eyelid and run down your cheek.